I Think I Would Rather Be Stabbed In The Back

WARNING: MAJOR SELF PITY PARTY WHINING TO ENSUE

I spent Saturday afternoon/evening in the emergency room due to chest pain. For four hours, I had myself convinced I had everything from stage 4 melanoma (thanks, Grey's Anatomy for spiking the hypochondriac in me) to swine flu.

Turns out, I have Pleurisy. Basically, it's an inflammation of the chest wall around your lungs. On Saturday, the ER doc told me to just take Advil. I was back at the doctor this morning and walked out with two new prescriptions.

This Pleurisy thing pretty much sucks. It hurts ALL THE TIME. It hurts even worse when I breathe. It hurts if I sleep wrong. It hurts if I laugh, or cough, or hiccup. It feels like someone is stabbing me in the chest and rotating the knife around for shits and giggles. Nice visual, I know.

And you know what really makes me mad?

My birthday is tomorrow. I'm turning 31 and I feel like I'm 80 right now. A week ago I was running 3 miles and swimming 1000 laps five days a week. Today, I could barely climb the stairs without stopping to take a breath. And when I did, it hurt. Bad.

My labs are all perfect. My x-rays were clear. My EKG was beautiful. But apparently, there is this invisible irritation inside my chest that is making everything I do exponentially harder and more painful than it needs to be.

And in case you were wondering, Google and Wikipedia are EVIL when it comes to getting information about your illness. Unless you want to force yourself into a full-on panic attack of monumental proportions, do not risk your sanity by using them to get additional information about what ails you.

Thanks for allowing me this opportunity to whine and wallow in my own self pity. Tomorrow, we will return to our regularly scheduled programming.

Love, hugs, and blessings,
The Mama